Clingy Jealous Girl
by Emma CS Me
Summary: Santana/Brittany, Artie/Brittany. Santana doesn't deserve Brittany. She knows this. But then Abrams comes into the picture and it starts to actually matter.


**Author's Notes:** Written for diva_off, the prompt: "I might not want you back, but I want to kill him/ and leave the rest at arm's length/ keep your naked flesh under your favorite dress."

* * *

**Clingy Jealous Girl**

Santana doesn't deserve Brittany.

She knows this. She deals with it. Ever since the first time they made out behind the bleachers (back in eighth grade; wow, she expected three years to go slower than that), Santana's kind of known they're not the same. Brittany says dumb, sweet things – the first time, she thought the bleachers were inhabited by gods of thunder because the metal kept slamming – and she looks at Santana like there's some kind of purpose to what they're doing.

For her part, Santana shoots her down, again and again.

It's not a big deal. Santana guesses she's kind of being a bitch, but – Brittany never worries about it. It's not like Britt gets resentful or something. It is _Brittany_, after all.

She doesn't mind.

* * *

Santana's not really sure what happens next.

It's just one of her things – she tells Britt she won't sing with her; that them hooking up doesn't mean anything. Well, it _doesn't_. Never has. It's just good for her rep and things being rubbed the right way is always fun. Despite some of the stupid shit Britt pulls – the constant questioning, outright telling the glee club when it's just meant to be like, and open secret – she's always seemed to get that on some sort of level.

And then she gets all _mad_ about Santana not doing the duet with her. What is this shit?

Suddenly, Abrams makes an appearance, waltzing in and twirling Britt around (or as much as you can do that in a wheelchair). Has Brittany even spoken to him before? Okay, that doesn't stop Britt having a thing with a lot of guys – Santana either, actually – but she's actually going around labelling herself as Artie's girlfriend, and Britt like never does that. The fuck?

Santana's not _jealous_. Just, y'know, confused.

She tells Wheels some shit – like Britt is using him for his voice or whatever. She doesn't really get what she's saying, but whatever; it seems to get under Abrams' skin and he and Britt are soon split. And not singing the duet anymore, which gives her less competition for her sticks. Awesome.

(Sam and Quinn wind up stealing that one from her. Fuckers.)

Britt seems weirdly upset by it – Santana doesn't get it, but Britt isn't being that clear. Whatever. They get to hook up again, and Brittany's not mad, and things are back to normal – Santana gets it again.

* * *

She kind of doesn't want to go along with Puck and Artie's thing – they're being major douches right now – but eventually she decides it would probably be a good idea. She and Britt only _started_ this 'cause of guys – it became a private thing too 'cause they realized it was fun even if they weren't gay for each other (and they're not) – and she might as well reap the benefits. She doubts Abrams is gonna get Britt back anyway.

They go to the restaurant, and everything's just fine until they have to not pay the bill. Artie kind of forgets that bit. Puck bitches him out, Santana identifies with that, Britt just sort of stands there.

They go home with Puck. They might let him watch; Santana doesn't really know.

Once they get there, Santana tries to make out with Britt on the couch. This works out for awhile – Puck makes appreciative noises in the background – until Britt pulls away, looking thoughtful (well, as thoughtful as she can look).

"Artie's nice," she says. "Paying that woman and everything. Is that what you're meant to do? Should we make it up to her? I could like, send her a koala or something."

Puck scoffs. Santana suddenly feels weirdly nauseous.

She shakes her head. Must have eaten some bad sticks or something.

* * *

Wheels and Britt wind up back together. Whatever. It's not a big deal to Santana (she shouldn't – doesn't – care). She invites Britt over, and tries to start something.

Britt turns her down.

Does not compute.

"I'm sorry," says Britt. "I talked to Artie about this, and, uh – he's just not cool with us hooking up... like, while I'm dating him."

Santana stares for a moment. "...What the hell? Since when you give a fuck about cheating on your boyfriends? Since when do you stick with a guy who won't let you maintain your perfect record anyway?"

Brittany looks upset. "I really like him, San. He's nice."

Santana scowls and rolls over onto her side. "Whatever," she says. "I can find someone else."

* * *

Wheels corners her in the choir room. "Hey, Santana."

"...Hi? What do you want?"

"We need to talk. About my girlfriend."

Santana's taken aback. "What about her?"

"You're in love with her."

Santana practically chokes on her own tongue.

"Wait, what the–"

"Santana, don't. You're about as good at the closet case thing as Kurt was. You're in love with Brittany. The whole world knows you're in love with Brittany." Artie sighs. "Me and her – we're not going to break up."

Santana crosses her arms over her chest. "Oh really?"

"Really," says Abrams. "I really like her. And she likes me back. She's just so... _happy_, and that makes me happy. I think you see that in her too, huh?"

Santana scowls at him. "Stop psychoanalyzing me," she says. "Britt and I... we're not a _thing_."

"I know," says Artie. "Despite the fact you are obviously jealous as _fuck_ of me, you're in major denial of your feelings for her. So basically, what I'm saying is: back off."

Santana cocks her head to the side. "Huh?"

"I like her. Things are working out. Don't wreck that just because you're jealous – especially if you can't even face what you want, okay? I'm straight and probably have no right to judge, but... I won't let my girlfriend get stolen by anyone who won't treat her right. And you wouldn't."

He wheels out. Santana groans.

She guesses Abrams kind of has a point – she can't get clingy. She's always known Britt deserved better than her.


End file.
